My Dreams Smell of Roses
by RipredtheGnawer
Summary: What would happen if Prim had to compete in the Hunger Games. Prim's POV, may possibly switch to Peeta's. Please read and review! Rated T for violence
1. Chapter 1: Reaped

Reaped

When my name falls from the painted lips of Effie Trinket, it's all I can do not to scream. There must be some mistake. Effie needs glasses, or she's playing a trick on me, or – something to explain the horrible truth that is ringing in my ears.

But she doesn't laugh or excuse herself. Instead, she looks out at the crowd and repeats my name. "Primrose Everdeen." Cherry, another twelve-year-old, prods me in the back. I numbly take one-step forward, and then another. I need to move quickly before my legs give way. As I move through the crowd, the people of District 12 avert their eyes, studying their boots or fingers. I climb the three steps to the stage, where Effie smiles brightly. "Wonderful!" Then she asks for volunteers. As usual, nobody speaks up.

I take my place and face the audience, searching the sea of faces for my family. My mother's easy to locate by her loud sobs. She doesn't look up from her hands, which she's cradled her head in. The face I can't find belongs to my older sister, Katniss. She was out hunting this morning with Gale – illegally, of course – but when she didn't return on time, there was no time to check if the fence was live or not. The Peacekeepers will be looking for her now, when she's obviously not in attendance.

Then she's crossing over to the glass ball with the boys' names, reaching in and pulling out a paper slip. "Peeta Mellark." All I know is that he's the baker's son, not from the Seam. He's the same age as my sister, sixteen years old. I've never spoken to him.

Now Peeta's coming up the stairs, just like I did. His blue eyes lock on mine, and I can tell by the pity in them that my terror is plain on my face. I realize that there are tears on my cheeks, and I blink quickly, trying to stop. No one volunteers to take his place, either. He stands stiffly a few feet away from me, also searching the crowd.

"Well, this is lovely!" Effie is talking to the cameras. "I'm Effie Trinket, and these are the tributes from District 12: Primrose Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! May the odds be _ever_ in your favor!"

After her ritual closing line, Peeta and I are shuffled off into the Justice Building. I've never been in here before, and it's too much to take in – the soft fabrics and fancy lights. There's even scented air.

I'm shown to a small room with a window, a thick carpet, and a red velvet couch, just like the collar of my mother's dress. She's wearing it today. Even as I form the thought, she enters the room. Her face is red and damp, but at least she's stopped crying. I can handle tears, but not from my mother.

"Oh, Prim!" she wails, and folds me in her arms. I go limp and let her lead me to the couch and pull me onto her lap. "Prim, Prim, Prim!" We just sit there for about ten minutes, silent, and then I ask where Katniss is.

"I don't know," my mother admits. "Maybe she and Gale got caught outside the fence. I promise, Prim, when I see her I'll tell her-" whatever she might have said is interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the window. We both look over, and there's Katniss. I jump up and run over, sliding up the glass panel to let her in.

"Where were you?" I whisper. She doesn't reply, just stares at me like I've sprouted wings. The only time I've ever seen my sister scared before was after the mine accident that killed our father. Now she's getting me frightened, too.

"You…no," she chokes out. Then she seems to register that her reaction isn't helping, and takes a deep breath. She blinks a few times and her face clears. "Sorry," she mutters. Then Katniss glances at our mother and then back at me. She bends down and puts one hand on my shoulder.

"Prim, you have to be brave." I nod. "You have to _win_. Promise me that you'll win."

I gulp loudly, trying not to show how scared I am. Trying to be brave. "I promise." Then the door bangs open and a female Peacekeeper with brown hair and gray eyes is standing there. I don't know this one's name, but it doesn't matter. I'm not sure what they'll do to Katniss for not attending the reaping. All I know is that it will be bad.

The Peacekeeper starts to say something – probably that our time is up – and then she catches sight of my sister, as I knew she would. She crosses the room in a few swift strides until she has Katniss by the wrist and is dragging her away.

"No, wait!" Katniss yells as the door begins to close. "Prim, you-" The door slams shut just after my mother rushes out. I'm alone. I can't see my family, but I can hear the screams and sobs travel down the hall until they exit the Justice Building.

"Prim?" This voice belongs to Amicus. He's my best friend in school. He walks over to me, where I'm frozen in shock, and gives me a hug. For a moment, he seems on the verge of saying something important, but he just wishes me luck and leaves. What do you say when your friend might never come back?

Over the next forty-five minutes, only one more person visits me: Madge, the mayor's daughter. I know Katniss has delivered strawberries to her father, but I've never spoken to either of them. Madge waits until I've sat on the couch, and takes the spot next to me. She pulls a golden pin out of her pocket and holds it out to me.

"Take it, for your token. Maybe it'll give you luck." She's quiet for a moment, and then she continues. "It's a mockingjay. Do you know what those are?" I nod. Katniss told me about those. Madge hands it to me and leaves. Alone, I examine the pin for a minute. The small golden bird is beautiful…it's now the only piece of beauty that I own. I fasten it to my shirt.

Now there's nothing I can do but wait.


	2. Chapter 2: Taken

Taken

The train pulls out of District 12's dingy station, leaving everything I love behind. As I stare out the window and watch my home fade away, my breathing quickens and my pulse pounds in my ears. Despite what I told Katniss, I know that I can't win these games.

I am not going to come home. I am riding a train to my death.

For the second time since my name was called, I'm overwhelmed by fear. During the reaping, I had to be brave and hide my emotions as much as I could. Now I allow myself to scream.

Over the awful noises I'm making, I can't hear the footsteps running down the hall. The door opens and Haymitch Abernathy, the previous victor of 12 and mine and Peeta's mentor, enters my compartment. He has a bottle of liquor in one hand and a knife in another. The sight of the blade shuts me up, and I back up until I'm against the wall.

"Enough," he snaps, and leaves. I take a deep, shuddering breath and slide down the wall into a sitting position, my arms wrapped around my knees. For a moment, I sit there, absolutely still, and then I burst into tears. I quickly stifle the sound with my sleeve. Eventually I end up weeping softly.

It seems like I cry for hours when there's a knock on my door. I quickly stand and try to hold my breath in case it's Haymitch, but it's Peeta. He pokes his head in. "Sorry," he says. "I just wanted to see if you were all right."

"If I'm all right?" I ask bitterly, and laugh once. "You don't care. You're going to kill me." The word "kill" catches in my throat.

"Maybe. Maybe not," The tone is neutral, but in Peeta's blue eyes, I see an unexpected gentleness. "The Games haven't even started yet."

"Why, though? Why even bother being nice?" Kindness isn't a part of my world. There's nothing nice about starving, or about losing your father, or about being picked for the Hunger Games. "There's no point."

"You could be right, I suppose," Peeta nods thoughtfully. "But there's nothing wrong with what I said. I could be dead soon, too." For a moment, he just stands there awkwardly, and then he turns on his heel and walks out.

I can't allow myself to think too hard about his last sentence, so I go to my small dresser and open the first drawer. Inside, I find a light yellow shirt and a pair of blue cotton pants. I'm relieved to be able to cast off my reaping outfit. I hate it! I'm certain I'll never wear it again, even if my name won't ever go into one of those glass balls again…of course, this is wishful thinking. I'll never live to see another Games.

When I've changed, I put on the mockingjay pin and neatly fold my other clothes. I set them on top of the dresser and head out to look for something to eat. I need to distract myself, and besides, I haven't eaten since the meager bowlful of mush I had this morning.

I eventually find Haymitch and Effie sitting at a table together, talking intently. I can't make out what they're saying, but I really don't care. I'm completely captivated by the pork roast and potatoes between them. It's untouched, and just looking at it makes my mouth water. I don't want to go away with the food still sitting there, but I don't want to interrupt to ask for some. So I stand there, gazing longingly at the meal, until I hear someone behind me.

I'm so wired that I give a little squeal of fright, only to whip around and see that it's Peeta. He's not looking at me, though – he's just as interested in the meat as I am.

Haymitch and Effie have noticed us now, and they're looking very secretive as they stand and take a few steps toward us. "So," Haymitch says as Peeta and I warily watch the adults while keeping one eye on the pork. "So, you're the tributes of District 12."

I laugh. I can't help it. Right now, it's the most ridiculous sentence I've ever heard. Of course, we're the tributes. As I laugh, I notice that my voice has an odd note in it, but I can't place what's wrong with it. I also notice that the others are giving me annoyed looks. Well, except for Peeta. He just looks concerned, which is worse. It does make me stop, though, and as I fall silent, I remember the word: hysteria.

"Name and age," growls Haymitch.

"Peeta Mellark, sixteen."

His voice is strong, and mine is almost inaudible by comparison as I say, "Primrose Everdeen, twelve." I'm very aware of the four years between my fellow tribute and me – and that I am on the lower end.

"Well, don't just stand there! Talk!" Effie's shrill voice is impatient, and she's bouncing on the balls of her feet so that her pink wig is trembling violently.

"Got any talents?" Haymitch is focused on Peeta, not me. It's not surprising.

"No. Not really," he admits. Now I'm subject to my mentor's glare.

"What counts as a talent?" I ask timidly.

"Whatever you've got," he says, and I can tell he's not expecting me to know anything.

"I can, um, heal wounds with plants, and I know some edible berries." I guess it's a good thing that my mother's a healer.

"Can you," Haymitch muses. It seems he's not going to say anything else, so Effie intervenes.

"Let's eat!" I meet Peeta's eyes and in them, I see a mirror of my own thoughts. _Finally!_ We follow the adults to the table and sit down, and I can barely keep from using my hands. I remind myself to be polite and spear a dried tomato with my fork.

The food is delicious, but I can't eat a lot. I'm not used to how rich it is. Only half of my plate is empty before I have to stop. After dinner, we're directed to another compartment to watch the reapings of the other districts.

I don't notice too much, except that there's only one other twelve-year-old. She's from District 11 and I think her name is Rue. Although we're both named after flowers, she looks completely different from me, with her dark skin and hair and golden brown eyes. The male tribute from 11 is named Thresh. He's at least fifteen, and huge.

Right after that, I get to see myself on television. Everything's all right until Effie says "Lovely," when I first start to cry. Then Peeta comes up and it's obvious that I'm trying to calm down. This isn't going to help me get sponsors.

When the tape ends, I just sit there for a few minutes. Then Effie starts to say something and I can't take it anymore. She's never had to even think about what the Games mean, she's never had to see them as anything but a sport. So I get up and walk back to my part of the train.


	3. Chapter 3: Presented

Presented

Finally, finally, we pull into the Capitol. The depot is stuffed with reporters and screaming crowds of people. They're so unnaturally colored and altered. It makes me sick. I'm shown to a car that takes me to another building that I recognize immediately. This is where I'll meet my stylist.

I'm lead to a small room with a mirror and a counter that's stocked with an unimaginable amount of lotions, creams, and make-up. I sit in the solitary swivel chair, only to jump up again when the door opens. A man with dark hair and a crisp black suit walks in. I see he's wearing gold eyeliner. He smiles at me and gives a slight bow.

"Primrose Everdeen? I'm your stylist, Cinna." He says this without any trace of the stupid Capitol accent. Promising. But I can't forget that he's in charge of dressing me up to die, like making a cake. He will make me pretty so that I can be eaten up quickly. "So, are you wondering what your costume for the opening night will be?" I nod grudgingly. "Just wait until you see it," Cinna says with a smile.

Then he leaves and my prep team comes in. There's a man with bright orange curls and purple lipstick that introduces himself as Flavius. He says the woman with the pea-green skin is named Octavia, and the other woman with golden tattoos and aqua hair is called Venia.

They have me strip down, and then flutter around me until I don't recognize myself. My eyes are sapphires in the fresh snow of my skin. There's not a mark on me that I can see. My hair is like a wreath of sunlight around my face. I'm beautiful.

"You're lovely!" Octavia sighs and I grit my teeth as I remember Effie Trinket saying the same thing when I climbed to the stage back in 12.

Cinna returns with a long garment bag and unzips it as I shrug out of my thin robe. He has me close my eyes as I step into the dress. I desperately hope that it's not a coal miner's outfit. It's not.

Instead, I'm wearing a dark gray fitted gown with tight sleeves that end at my wrists. Small rubies are embedded in the fabric and every time I move, they sparkle like tiny flames.

"Oh!" I can't stop the soft exclamation that springs from my lips, now painted a light pink. I don't want to show any emotion to Cinna, but Katniss is the one who's good at that. Not me.

"That's what I thought," Cinna says, and grins. "Now for the shoes." He produces a pair of dark red slip-ons without heels. They're very comfortable, which is more than I expected.

My prep team comes back with a scary silver gadget that has what looks suspiciously like a trigger. I start to panic until Flavius says something about pulling back my hair to expose my ears. Then I get it – I'm getting piercings.

Octavia rubs my ear with a swab of some numbing ointment while Venia fiddles around with the gun to adjust the settings, and before I can say anything, she pops it in my earlobe. Then she swoops down for the second shot.

Thanks to the ointment, I don't feel anything. But it's a disappointment when I see that my 'earrings' are nothing more than stiff little strips of fabric fastened to metal studs.

"What's the point?" I mutter as I reach up to finger the cloth.

"Nope!" Cinna says, and he catches my wrist. "Don't touch. Wait." He nods to Flavius, which unleashes a flurry of activity as the trio piles my hair on top of my head. When they finally clear away, the mirror shows me that I have a beautiful knot of braids.

"Now, watch," Cinna instructs, and he holds a small device to my earrings. Right before he presses the button on the metal contraption, I realize what he's about to do.

I give a yelp and smack his hand away. "No! You've got to be kidding me!" I shake my head vigorously, sending Octavia into a frantic state of worry as she assesses the damage I've done to my hairdo.

"Primrose, I-"Cinna begins, but I interrupt.

"Prim. Just Prim."

Cinna gives me a small smile. "Prim. Do you think I would hurt you?" I let out a snort. What a question. He realizes his mistake. "Do you think I would set you on fire?" he amends.

"Um, still yes. Kind of."

"Well, I'm not going to, and you'll have to take my word for it. This is a synthetic fire that Portia and I devised, just for show. It's harmless." Cinna is giving me a pleading look, like if I say no; it'll break his heart.

"Is it possible for me to stop you?"

"Not at all," he says, as I knew he would. So I have to sit still and let my stylist set my earrings on fire. Then he helps me to my feet and takes a step back. The earrings are alight. Flavius flips off the lights and I'm stunned. My face is glowing in the soft flickering flames, and my eyes shine. I'm not Prim anymore. I'm a spirit.

The lights come back on and Cinna leads me out into the hall, where Peeta is standing with Portia, his stylist. He's dressed in a black suit with a deep red shirt. His blond curls are carefully gelled into place.

"Come on, come on, come on!" Effie squeals impatiently, and drags Peeta down the long spiral staircase to the ground level of the Remake Center. I follow and see that the whole thing's pretty much a big stable.

My fellow tribute and I are put into the open-sided chariot marked with a silver number 12. I steal a glance at Peeta and see that my earrings, which are still burning steadily, transfix him.

"Why aren't you getting cooked?"

"It's not real fire. Are you going to, you know, be lit?" I don't think he will, since he doesn't know anything about mine, but now Portia's bustling over with another lighter.

"Peeta, you have to wear this." She holds out a circlet that's made of the same material as my earrings. After settling it on his head, she lights it. "There! Perfect."

After she leaves, he turns to me. "Is my hair on fire?"

"No," I giggle. Then the doors to the street are opening and the District 1 chariot is pulling out. Then number 2, which is followed by 3. 4, 5, 6. All at once, it's our turn and we're on the road. In the darkness of the night, we're both casting a soft light over the crowds of watching people.

I can only manage a few waves before we've stopped in the City Circle. Then I have to sit through President Snow's speech until our horses finally pull us into the Training Center.

Peeta and I are extinguished with some type of chemical spray that smells nasty but appears to be harmless. If looks could kill, at least half of the other tributes would be responsible for our deaths. I'm not surprised that they're upset – I'm sure I've got at least one potential sponsor.

The next hour is a blur as I'm guided to my room and my costume is peeled off me. Then I shower and bolt down another rich dinner before bed. I'm exhausted.

This night, however, sleep refuses to come. I shut my eyes but can't stop thinking about home. Katniss never said good-bye. Neither did my mother. Only Amicus, who's a friend, and Madge, whom I barely know, even wished me luck.

I climb out of the huge bed and walk over to the window. The moon is almost full, and I wonder if my family is thinking of me, too. They must be. Or are they too busy trying to get food? What about my sister? Is she all right, after that Peacekeeper took her away?

This sends me into another endless loop of worry. I need to _do_ something, before I start screaming again. So I walk out of my room and down the hall – what is it with the Capitol and hallways? – Anyways, I enter the main room and curl up on the couch without turning on the lights.

"Why?" I say to the darkness. "Why me?" Then I think of a better question, albeit impossible to solve. "Why are there any Hunger Games at all?"

"Good question," a voice answers. Peeta shifts in his chair and leans forward. "Couldn't sleep?" His voice is sympathetic.

"No." I peer at him and see that he's upset. Of course. "Why are you out here?"

"Probably the same reason you are. I can't sit still."

"Yeah. Being set on fire can do that to you." It's a lame joke, but I didn't stop to think before I said it. Now I can't shut up. "My sister Katniss would be so much better in the Games. She'd win."

"Would she?" Peeta's voice is different now, kind of strangled. "I didn't see her at the reaping."

"Mm." I'm not telling him about her hunting habits, even though he most likely knows already. There are cameras everywhere here.

"So… what do you think the arena will be like?" This is what's been weighing on him, just like me.

"I don't know. Bad." Why can't I say anything right tonight? "I mean it won't be an easy place to survive, even without all the mutts and explosions and stuff. These are the Hunger Games."

"Well said. I'm more afraid of what the arena will do to me. I don't want it to change me like all the tributes we see on the screen. I don't want to turn into a monster… then I'd be no better than the Gamemakers."

I think about what he's said, and it scares me. I can't picture myself killing someone, taking his or her life. That's not what I learned to do. My mother was a healer, and she taught me the names of the plants that fight infection and close up wounds. I don't think I could ever open one myself.

Just the thought is enough to make me tremble. Without another word, I jump up and run back to my room before I say something stupid again.

The rest of the night is torture. Eventually I fall asleep, only to wake twisted in my sheets like a straitjacket. I don't remember anything about my dreams but the feeling of terror they induced.


	4. Chapter 4: Offered

Offered

Effie's knock and warning of a "big, big, big, day," is welcome. I get up and shiver over to my closet, where I find a thin brown shirt and tight black pants. Leather boots are also there. In the mirror, I'm startled to find that I look like a small, blond version of Katniss when she comes back from hunting.

Over breakfast – thin pastries and juice – Haymitch tells Peeta and me what we should do in training.

"Don't clam up completely," he says around a mouthful of food. "You can't exactly be friendly, but you want to start making alliances."

"What if we don't want to make alliances?" Peeta asks.

"You two are going to make alliances," Haymitch states, waving his fork at us. "You need all the help you can get." He takes another huge bite, swallows, and belches loudly before continuing. "Now, not that I'm expecting it, but should you be invited to join the careers, go ahead. They're probably your best chance of staying alive."

I can't believe what he's suggesting. The career pack thinks being reaped is an honor. They think it means something good. To join with them would be a horrible thing for someone from District 12 to do. Especially me. I've never used a weapon and can't fight to save my life. No, I have to hope to be taken out in the initial bloodbath at the Cornucopia.

After breakfast, Peeta and I are shown to the actual training area of the Training Center. There are stations everywhere. After pinning a paper with the number 12 on my back, I head for the plants station because it's the only thing that looks familiar.

"Hi, there!" says the instructor. He looks genuinely happy to see me, which makes me think he doesn't get many visitors.

"Hi," I say back cautiously. His smile grows, and he asks me if I know anything about medicinal plants. "Yeah, my mother's a healer," I tell him.

"Really? Then by all means, tell me the names of these herbs."

The test is fairly easy, and I only get one or two wrong. Then he has me explain what they do. I get every one right. It gets a little harder when the instructor – he tells me he's called Baca – teaches me about edible plants. I learned a little about that from Katniss, but not much. Baca shows me berries that are safe and some that are deadly. He talks about roots and leaves and I love it. I eagerly listen to everything he's saying, but in the back of my mind, I know I should be learning how to use a weapon. That's what really counts in the Games.

"Can I join?" a new voice asks. I turn to see the speaker, a pretty girl with long flowing blond hair and green eyes. Her blue shirt has a number 1 on it. A career.

"Of course," the trainer says, and continues to teach us both until the lunch break.

I fill my tray with a sandwich and some fruit. Since I'm sitting with my back to the rest of the tributes, I don't notice when someone approaches until he taps me on the back. I jump a little and see that it's a District 2 boy, along with the girl I saw earlier.

"My name's Cato," he says confidently. "Glimmer noticed that you were talented with herbs. She – well, all of us, really," he amends, indicating the table of careers across the room, "We were wondering if you'd like to form an alliance with us."

For a moment I can't speak. This is just what Haymitch talked about earlier. Me, getting an offer to join the Careers! It can't be real. But it is, and despite what I was told, I don't have the slightest idea what to do.

"I'll think about it," I get out eventually. Glimmer whispers something in Cato's ear, and he murmurs something back.

"Be quick about it," he says to me. "We don't have forever. Let us know by this time tomorrow." With that, he walks back to his table, and I'm left sitting in stunned silence.


	5. Chapter 5: Scored

**Ok, so I forgot to say... I don't own the hunger games! I wish I did but I don't. Suzanne Collins is the genius who came up with that awesomeness!**

**And also, I'm sorry this chapter is so short!**

* * *

Scored

The rest of the day passes in a blur. I go to the station for knives, more for show than for actually wanting to learn, and end up slicing my hand. An Avox guides me to a small room off the gym, where I'm bandaged and sent back in. I head for the hunting station this time, because I know it'll mean the difference between life and death if I don't know how to get food. I can only eat berries for so long.

After the training is over, I go back to the floor for the District 12 tributes. Effie screams when she sees my hand and I have to tell her twice that I'm fine before she hears me. Peeta, who I haven't seen since we started training, stands at the window and looks out at the Capitol streets. Haymitch shows up right before dinner, fairly sober for once. He eats for a few minutes while Effie tries to get us to talk about the day.

"Did you talk with the other tributes?" she pipes. Both Peeta and I shake our heads. "What did you do?" she wants to know.

"I swung an axe around and learned how to tie a few knots," Peeta volunteers.

"Good! And what about you, Primrose?" I learned on the train that there's no point in asking Effie to use my nickname.

"I spent some time with the plants and then I figured out how to make a fishhook. And, um… I was asked to join the Careers." Peeta almost drops his fork and Effie squeals in delight.

"What did you say?" Haymitch demands.

"I said I'd think about it," I say, cringing.

"You _what_? I told you to join if you could!"

"I know!" I squeak, and hastily explain, "But they're so brutal! If I accept the offer, I'll… I-I mean," I stammer, "If I say no, I'll only die sooner instead of later! I don't want to wait around to be killed… you can't honestly expect me to have a chance at winning?"

"That's exactly what I expect," Haymitch snarls, and stands abruptly, knocking his chair over. Maybe he's not as sober as I thought. "Now, you will tell those Careers that you accept their offer! And if you say no, I'll want a better reason than what you just gave me!" He stalks out of the room and we hear the door slam as he catches the elevator.

"Really? The Careers?" Peeta's astounded, which would be insulting if I wasn't so shocked myself. "Why?"

"I guess they thought they could use my herbs," I mumble. My appetite's gone and I walk slowly back to my room.

The next two days pass with little drama. I give the Careers a grudging yes; sit quietly at their lunch table while they talk around me. I learn how to set a basic snare and even paint a little camouflage, but I can't shake the feeling that none of this is really helpful. I'm only twelve, almost thirteen, and everyone else in the arena except for Rue is at least two years older than me. Everything I'm learning is pointless.

Then it's time for the individual training sessions, and I can barely get up in the morning because I'm so nervous. What will I do? What will the Gamemakers say? Most importantly, _what score will they give me?_

I can tell that Peeta feels the same way because he's equally silent at breakfast. Effie's attempts to make conversation are lame and I think she knows it, because after five minutes without a response, she backs off and lets us pretend to eat in peace.

I sit with the other tributes in the waiting area outside of the gymnasium. Nobody speaks. The names are called one by one, and soon it's down to the last two. Peeta and me. His name is called and I give him a nod as he walks through the door. The waiting is torture and it feels like three eternities until the speaker says, "Primrose Everdeen, District 12."

My legs turn to jelly as I force them to bear my weight. Inside the gym, only about half of the Gamemakers are watching me. I feel only a kind of dull frustration. The rest of my brain is whirling in terror.

I suddenly get an idea and make it to the camouflage station. I grab a brush and dip it in paint before turning to the wall. I draw a plant and label it, and then I write its use. I go through as much of my mother's book as I can remember, and then I'm out of ideas. I stand uncertainly for a minute until a Gamemaker tells me I can go.

In the elevator, I slump against the wall, feeling like I could cry but unable to do so. I think I've used up every tear in my body within the past week. So I wait while the floors flash by and can only muster one thought: _I've failed._ I haven't shown the Gamemakers anything of value. Sure, I demonstrated my knowledge of herbs, but they probably knew since I spent half of the first day there.

When I enter the main room on the twelfth floor, it's deserted. I can't hear anyone but Effie comes running when I shut the door. As she comes closer, I see Peeta, Haymitch, Cinna, and Portia are following more sedately.

"How did it go? What did you do?" Her green eyes are huge and worried. Cinna leads me to the table where dinner is waiting. I suppose it's delicious but I'm not hungry. I can't possibly eat.

But with some coaxing from Cinna, I swallow a few tasteless bites while Peeta talks about how he threw some of the training equipment around to show the Gamemakers his strength. After a few minutes of this, I can't even lift my fork because my hands are shaking. Peeta isn't even the oldest tribute and if he's that strong, I'm dead already.

"I don't know how well I did," I mumble when it's my turn to speak. "I kind of did some stuff with plants but most of the Gamemakers weren't paying attention." Haymitch presses me for more information but I refuse to speak.

About an hour later, we all have to watch the scores that we and the other tributes received. My dinner is threatening to make a reappearance by the time we get to District 6. Cato and Glimmer each received eights and the boy from District 4 got a ten. I'm surprised when little Rue gets a seven, but it's practically nonexistent compared to her fellow tribute, Thresh, who has a nine.

Peeta gets a nine as well, and then it's my turn and I'm breathing too fast and my pulse is pounding in my ears. My face flashes on the screen and the announcer says my name.

Five.

I bury my face in my hands and Cinna pats my back for a while until I run into my room and lay on the bed, screaming noiselessly into my pillow. I finally have to accept that I am going to die. There is nothing any sponsor could send me that would help, because I cannot use a weapon. All I know is how to dig up roots and pick berries. All very nice when you're training to be a healer, but in the arena it doesn't count for anything.


	6. Chapter 6: Decided

**Mockingjay Spoilers right here - not the whole chapter, just this note: Prim's dress is a signal to the rebels that she won't be the mockingjay. Cinna decided that she doesn't have the charisma and all that, so by giving her a "water" dress (extinguishing the flames in the first one) he's saying that she won't do it. Ok? Ok.**

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Decided

When I wake in the morning, my hair stands out from my head like the feathers of a peacock that I saw in a painting in the remake center. I brush it out and walk into the dining room after changing into a simple light pink dress. I choke down a piece of toast and some juice.

"Today's interview day," announces Haymitch as I eat. Peeta enters the room and takes a seat midway between the two of us. "I'll coach Peeta first and then you," he says. "Effie will be teaching you how to act properly so that nobody realizes how utterly awkward you two are." He guffaws and takes a swig from his liquor bottle. "I'll be waiting in there," he says, pointing at the door to the room with the television. Then he gets up and disappears behind it.

It's a few minutes before Effie calls me into another room that I haven't seen yet. It's fairly large with a couple of chairs and a small circular table. The wood floor's polished and the lights are bright.

First, she has me put on a heavy dress in a positively atrocious maroon color and some very high heels. Then I spend hours strutting back and forth for her. She says I'm learning how to walk on stage, but I don't get it. Anyone could do this. Finally, I'm told to go to Haymitch.

Feeling like a feather without the stupid dress, I walk into the television room to see him waiting for me like a vulture. He glares at me until I sit down and when I do, he just gives me a long, long look.

"What are you _doing_?" I ask after about ten minutes of this.

"Deciding," he mutters thoughtfully.

"Deciding what? Can I go now?"

"No. I've made up my mind on how we're going to portray you."

For the past week, I've had no say in anything. Not my clothes, not my food, not my schedule, not even what I dream. This is the worst yet, and I barely manage to keep my face blank. "And what's that?" It's no use arguing with Haymitch.

"You're going to be upbeat. Happy. Lots of smiles, jokes, and laughing."

I can't believe this. It's the day before I die and I have to act excited about it. But it'll help me get sponsors, so I answer Haymitch's practice questions without too much complaint. It's dinnertime when I'm finally allowed to leave.

Peeta and I don't talk over our meal for different reasons. I, for one, can barely even hold my fork and have to focus on controlling my trembling fingers. But Peeta seems very calm and relaxed. He doesn't speak because he's too lost in some daydream, I think. Maybe he's trying to block out thoughts of tomorrow.

After, my prep team returns with their arsenal of make-up and nail polish. I stand naked on the tiled floor of my bathroom while they scurry around me, filling the room with their chatter. I can't take in one word. Despite the chilling terror, I have to wonder about certain things, like why Flavius is literally painting my face with a light glitter, and why Octavia has painted my nails with such a pale gold, like a sunbeam.

Then Cinna comes in with a long white garment bag. I slide into the dress and look in the mirror. It's the complete opposite of the one I wore on the opening night, with its full skirt and ruffles. The bodice is extremely tight. There's a deep blue sash around my waist made of a wonderfully smooth fabric that Cinna says is called silk. The dress itself is a mix of colors: green, blue, even a few hints of purple. I can't tell what it's all about until I look in the mirror.

I'm an ocean this time. Well, water, at least. The dress is beautiful as always and I turn to thank Cinna. He holds up a hand.

"You haven't seen it all yet. Walk around."

I do, and the dress comes to life in a way I never imagined it could. The fabric swishes and as I take my first step, the ruffles slide slightly to reveal golden areas that imitate sunlight on the tips of waves.

"Oh, Cinna, it's wonderful!" I sigh. Back in front of the mirror, I can see the full effect of my prep team and stylist's work combined. The glitter and nail polish give my whole body an unearthly glow, as if I'm underwater. "How do you _do_ this?"

"I think of the person and the feeling that surrounds them. It tells me the right color and design."

"I guess I'd have to be a stylist to understand," I laugh, and then I can't stop. It's like that first night on the train. If I've learned one thing in my time here, it's that nerves are a very, very bad thing for me to have.

I'm numbly aware of someone taking my hand and leading me into the elevator, and then to a room I've never seen before. The other tributes are there. I can't focus on their outfits and everything is going blurry. I reach up to wipe my eyes before I start crying yet again.

"NO!" Venia shrieks, and knocks my hand aside. "Sorry," she says as she dabs lightly at my eyes with a tissue, "but you would have smeared your make-up." I couldn't care less, but I don't say so. I just stand there as, one by one, the tributes are called into the front room – a balcony, really – to be interviewed with Caesar Flickerman. I think I may pass out when my name is called, but then I'm walking forward and there's no time to be nervous.

"Hello, Primrose," Caesar says with a smile. His lips, hair, and eyelids are all died an interesting shade of blue. It almost matches my sash.

"Prim. Just Prim." I say this out of instinct because I can't stand being called by my full name. I remember just in time to smile back.

"Sorry. Hello, Prim. So, tell me, what do you think of the Capitol?"

_Upbeat,_ Haymitch growls in my head. "Oh, well, it's just so different!" I sound breathy and not at all like myself. "It's very new but it's growing on me." The audience laughs and a few, mostly the officials, shout out their thanks.

"What do you think will help you the most in the arena?"

That's a tough one. I can't think of anything to say for the longest time until finally I blurt out, "I won't drown, at least. I've become sort of an expert on swimming in clothes. There's not much in my size, I'm so small." Ugh, what am I thinking? But the words are out and I can't take them back. I just hope none of the potential sponsors are doubting me.

But I should know that Caesar wouldn't let me down. He smiles and shrugs. "Well, you look beautiful tonight." He goes on to ask me if I have any siblings back home. I wonder if he's heard about Katniss and her illegal hunting on the day that I was chosen. If he has, I can't really do anything about it.

"I have a sixteen-year-old sister named Katniss."

"Can you tell us anything about her?" Caesar asks, including the audience.

"She's very smart and can do anything if she wants to. I think she could win the Games if she was chosen." The audience murmurs questioningly at my hopeless tone. I can't let them see that I have no chance, so I keep talking. "But she isn't, so I'll have to do it for her." The murmurs turn into cheers, and I grin shakily.

"I bet you will," Caesar agrees. Then his tone turns confidential. "Now, just between you and me, Prim," – really? The whole world is listening – "I think that you can win these games. Just remember that I've got my hopes up that I'll be interviewing you again someday."

For a moment, my heart lifts at his words, but then I remember that he's said essentially the same thing to all of the other tributes. I barely have time to nod before my buzzer goes off. "Thanks," I say, and stand to walk over to my seat.

Peeta walks onstage and he and Caesar talk about things that I don't hear or understand. It's just hit me that this could be the last night of my life. But before the panic really sets in I remember that I'm on television and do my best to listen to my fellow tribute's interview. I hear Caesar ask something about a girlfriend back home. After a moment's hesitation, Peeta gives a nod that I think he tries to turn into a shrug.

"Can't make up your mind?" chuckles Caesar. "Well, if you win, you'll have your pick."

"That's not it," Peeta mumbles. "Winning won't really help for me."

"Why not?" Caesar asks, mystified.

Peeta blushes deeply and chokes out, "Because… her little sister…" he pauses and I know what he's going to say just before he speaks the words, "her little sister is Primrose."

The audience shrieks and even Caesar looks taken aback for a moment. I can't decide what I think about all this so I become absorbed in examining the ruffles on my dress. The buzzer goes off again and Peeta walks to his chair. I can tell he's looking at me but I very carefully avoid his eyes.

During the elevator ride to the twelfth floor, I'm silent. I stand across the tiny square room from him, with all the other tributes between us. Now that I'm off that stage, I can think about what's been said and what it means. The thoughts go round and round in my head with no solution until the elevator holds only Peeta and me.

"Look, I'm sorry," he begins, but I ignore him. It's not that I'm angry, but that I've begun to realize what must happen. So when the doors open, I stalk back to my room without looking at anybody: not Effie, Haymitch, or even Cinna. Numbly I change into pajamas and crawl into bed. Despite the sheets, I tremble with a completely new kind of fear. What I've discovered is this:

Peeta is in love with Katniss. In the arena he won't kill me because of this, but to go home – which he will do to be with my sister – I will have to die. This isn't as big of a problem because I have accepted since the beginning that I will never see my family again. The problem is that I still want to live. Badly. But my chances of survival are so slim that if I can make Katniss happy by giving her Peeta; I see no reason why I shouldn't. For that to happen my life must end. But the boy that loves my sister will have no intention of killing me and the truth is that I don't want him to. There's no way out of here.

When I finally sleep, it may be more unconsciousness than slumber. I'm terrified because there is one way to escape. A way that would make everyone happy except my sister, who will eventually move on, and the Capitol, about which I don't care. I will be the only person permanently hurt by this, because to escape – a word that seems more and more daunting – I will have to give up my own life, because Peeta will never take it from me.

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**Ok, so I know that was a little depressing but please bear with me.**


	7. Chapter 7: Begun

**A/N: I know this is short, I'm really sorry about that. AND I haven't updated in a while. But I've been kind of busy, my dad had a little... accident... so he's immobilized for a bit. So I'll update as much as a can, but no promises right now. I WILL update, though. That's a garantee. I just can't say when.  
**

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Begun

In the morning I sit in a daze as my prep team makes me over for what will hopefully be the last time. Then I'm flown in a hovercraft to the arena. I sit scrunched up in my seat with my eyes tightly closed. Cinna's beside me the whole time and when we arrive he takes my hand and leads me to the launch room. Another Katniss-style hunting outfit for me to put on. Another small meal for me to choke down. Then I'm hugging Cinna and he's telling me to stand on the metal plate that will take me up to my death and I can't do it. I can't take the step that is one of my last. But I remember my mockingjay pin and lurch toward it where it lies on the small table. I accidentally stab myself twice with the sharp bit before I get it on my shirt. By now I'm calm enough – really not calm at all – to take my place.

The glass is around me and I'm being lifted to the surface. I take in the landscape around me: forest and empty plains. The Cornucopia sits in the middle of the circle of tributes. I can see a huge pile of weapons and supplies in the horn, but I have no idea what to do. I can't use a weapon and if I run towards the rest of the careers I'll be a choice target. I settle on retreating until the fighting's over – and the gong rings out.

I dart forward against my better judgement, snag a long staff, and backpedal as quickly as I can without falling. I look around warily but there are no attackers. They're all running into the woods or fighting it out at the Cornucopia. It's a safe bet that the Careers won't go for me, because I can heal them. But the other tributes don't know that.

I see Peeta with an orange backpack and a bunch of knives, running off into the trees. I look what he's running from and see Clove, the girl tribute for District 2, lying in the dirt in a pool of blood. Interesting. I thought knives were her specialty, not his.

The boy from 4, Appo, is fighting with the boy from 10. Nearby, the male tribute from District 3 lies without moving. The girl from 4 has already slaughtered the boy from 8. As I watch, the girl from 6 falls to her knees. Blood runs from her arm but she still manages to grip her dagger. One swift blow from her attacker's sword, and her head rolls away.

I can't watch this anymore. I can't. But I'm unable to tear my eyes from the scene. As I stare, Cato – armed with a mace and a scimitar – drives the boy from 6 backwards until he falls over. I avert my eyes just in time, but I can hear every scream. And I can hear the laugh that comes from the monster's mouth as he strikes the killing blow.

Throughout all of this, other small battles have been fought. The girl from 5 with long, dark red hair has sliced up the girl from 1, who I think is called Glimmer. She lies twitching on the ground, and I can tell that her wounds are beyond my capacity to heal. The girl from District 7 has been killed by Marvel from 1. At the moment, he's going through the supplies that still sit in the mouth of the Cornucopia. Unnoticed, the girl from 5 slips away into the trees as the boy from 10 dies.

So the Career pack is down two members and there are sixteen for us to get rid of before we turn on each other.


	8. Chapter 8: Tracked

Tracked

Cato looks around at all of us and speaks to me in short, clipped sentences. "You, District 12. Fix us up." It's as though he expects me to clap my hands and have medicine right there. Luckily, enough of my training kicked in for me to recognize the healing plants growing nearby. Trying to move quickly and watch my back at the same time, I pluck a few stems and chew them up. Marvel hands me a roll of bandages from a pack and I bind the cuts on Cato's arm.

"So, who do we follow first?" the girl from 4 asks. Her voice, smooth and alluring, reminds me of a cat. She even looks like one, with her slightly slanted light brown eyes.

"We'd best go after the girl from 5. Vulpe. I don't think she should be left to her own devices," Cato says with a smirk.

"Right," sighs Marvel, who appears bored with the whole thing. "Let's get moving, then." He passes out the packs and weapons. I continue to hold my staff, but take the garrote as if it's a bomb. Which I suppose it could be.

We set off into the woods, all five of us. A grim party of killing machines. I find myself walking next to Appo. He begins to whistle, making my skin crawl. How can he make music after _killing_ someone? But I recognize the tune. It's the Hanging Tree, the last song my father ever taught me. Illegal. I'm surprised to hear it now, even more so when I remember that it comes from the lips of someone of another District.

I look at Appo out of the corner of my eye, and see he's grinning at me. "Like it?" he asks slyly.

"Not particularly," I mutter. "It's illegal in 12."

"Same as in 4," he tells me. "But I figure, we're already condemned, so why worry? And even if I win, they can't execute the victor."

I don't reply, and he doesn't seem to be waiting for any kind of response. So we trek through the forest in silence. Eventually we find a scrap of something to tell us we're on the right track.

The girl from 4 looks around for a few minutes and then points into the trees. "That way," she announces. We head in that direction and eventually hear something up ahead. Cato rushes forward with his scimitar and within seconds there's a cannon blast. Our group erupts in cheers around me, but I stay silent. Cato returns.

"Not Vulpe," he says. "It was that boy from 9." I remember him vaguely. A fidgety, quiet person. Keeping to himself. Speaking to no one. Now he never will. He didn't even make a noise as he died.

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**A/N: Sorry this is so short! I'm trying to do lots of things at once... hopefully the next chapter will be longer. Or updated sooner. Or all of the above?**


	9. Chapter 9: Ambushed

Then we're off again, moving silently. Well, maybe not me. I must be making a lot of noise from the way Cato's looking back at me. I do my best to stay quiet, but-

"AARGH!" With a savage cry, figures leap from the trees on every side. I scream so loudly that I imagine the birds in the trees nearby taking flight. But there's no time for imagining, not now. The world is shattered into a million pieces as the Career pack rushes to defend itself. I am caught in the middle, a minnow in a whirlpool. A mockingjay in a hurricane.

Everything is blood and breathing and grunts of satisfaction or pain. Nothing stands out. All I can do is turn in a clumsy circle. Hold my staff tightly. I hear one cannon blast. Who is it? Then another, and another. It's over as quickly as it began. I look around. My eyes are filled with the bloody image of three corpses on the forest floor. Mingled with the leaves and dirt are pieces of flesh. I shudder violently.

"Well," says the girl from 4, "that was something." She doesn't have a mark on her, and looks eager for more.

"We can't all have your skill, Feli," Appo huffs. I turn to see that he is holding a hand to the deep cut on his shoulder, which does nothing to staunch the red flowing from it.

I dive for the bag and pull out the bandages and healing herbs that I saved. "Here!" I quickly wrap the wound so that, even with the blood all around, it looks much more manageable. I step back. "Don't lift that," I warn him. Of course that's the next thing he does. It's a struggle for him to raise it even a few inches, and he lets it drop with a grimace. "Told you."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get moving." He's weak from blood loss, though, and very pale. He shouldn't walk. But I know that any protest of mine would be met with either yelling or death. So I don't object as we set off once more.

There's another cannon blast after about an hour. Nine more will die before these games are over. Who will be next? Me?

We break for lunch, a slice of bread and cheese. An apple. There's almost nothing compared to what I had in the Capitol, but I'll get used to it. Or not, depending on how long I live. We keep moving. Up hills, through valleys. The forest doesn't change.

"Here's camp for tonight," Cato announces. The shadows are lengthening and the sky is an orange-tinged blue. Appo sinks to the ground in relief, as does Marvel. Feli, Cato, and I pile the packs under a tree before joining them. A few minutes later, the sun sinks beneath the horizon, if it even _is _the horizon. Or the real sun. Anything could be real in the arena.

The Capitol anthem plays and the sky lights up. Then the faces begin among the stars. Glimmer. The girl from 2, Clove. Both from 3, 6, 7, and 8. The silent boy from 9. Both from 10. Thresh from 11. The seal of Panem glows for a moment, and then the world returns with its brutality renewed.

Marvel rises and moves a pack to the edge of this small copse of trees that we have inhabited. He plunks himself down on it and I realize he's our guard for tonight. The others stretch out and, after a few moments of hesitation, I do too.

Within minutes the air is filled with the sound of heavy breathing. Marvel's figure is a slightly deeper blackness than the night, and I know that we are the only two awake.

I can't sleep. Even if there wasn't a risk of being killed by the 'guard,' I'm too wound up and worried. For one thing, I haven't seen or heard from my family in a week. They could be starving, Katniss has probably been punished for hunting… there are dozens of possibilities, and none of them are pleasant.

And then, of course, there's the small matter of my impending doom.

So, naturally, I am wide awake and notice right off when the rock hits Marvel in the head and he slumps to the ground, just before a figure emerges from the trees.

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**A/N: Ha. Bet you all hate that... next chapter will be up soon, I promise! And everyone, please review on what you think is happening, what will happen, and just review in general! Because it makes me happy, and when I'm happy I write more, and when I write more you will find out what happens next!**


	10. Chapter 10: Fought

**A/N: Thank you to those who reviewed! I'm too lazy to go back and check your usernames, but you know who you are and I hope you know that you have my sincerest gratitude! As I've mentioned before, I live on your reviews and feedback.**

**And now, the big reveal! (actually, it might NOT be revealed in this chapter... but I'm sure you can guess)  
**

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I'm frozen, too terrified to move. The figure creeps closer. I could touch it. As it pauses to look around, I see it's a male. Who? The icy chill gripping my brain does not allow me to think. All I know is that the moon glints on the blade he is clutching.

But someone else wakes. Appo. He's trying to sit up, but the figure attacks. I hear the ripping and a short cry of pain before all hell breaks loose.

Feli and I bolt to our feet at the same time. She rushes towards me, confused by the night. I fall to the ground. She's on top of me. I can't breathe, can't even move. I know I'm going to die. All I hear is Katniss's voice in my head: _Prim, you have to be brave. You have to _win. _Promise me that you'll win._ Then I come back to myself, and although I didn't hear my answer, I know what I must do.

With a strength that surprises myself, I shove Feli away. We're both standing again, and I slam into her, heading off her charge. My momentum carries us both backwards and she makes a choking sound, as though she's been punched. I stumble away and can only stare as she falls backwards to the ground, still watching me with murder in her eyes.

But I have to look up, because someone is speaking to me. "Prim," a rough voice says, "Run!" I can't run. Oh, I try. I have never tried so hard in my life. But my feet are tangled in a pack and I'm too horrorstruck to pull them out.

There's a grunt and a flame sputters into being. Cato's face is illuminated in the flickering glow. Blood runs from a gash in his side, but he manages to stand. "Ohh, District 12," he hisses, "You're dead!"

I still can't move. I can only watch as Cato pulls a long, tapering cord from his pouch. The figure that emerged from the trees charges him, but the vicious Career from 2 seems beyond caring. His eyes burn with a vicious hatred as he flings out his arm. Too late, I understand and can finally move again. I try to back away. But the cord unfurls and wraps around my lower right arm four times, biting into the flesh. It feels as though it is burning. I can hear a yell and a long, long scream. My eyes are closed as I fall to the ground, and then someone is shaking me. "Prim! Prim…?"


	11. Chapter 11: Rescued

_I run as fast as I can, the darkness pressing in on my eyes. The trees reach out with their twisted fingers, pulling at my clothes. Nothing can stop them. Thorns tear my skin but still I keep running because it does no good to stop. Finally the forest ends and my feet drum on the flat, even ground. On and on and on._

_ I can feel what is coming. The air is cooler and there is a wind. But I go forward. My feet snap against something and I sprawl on the ground, still sliding. As I fall I discover that it is a trip wire. And I have tripped it._

_ Screaming, screaming, screaming, the ground disappears and I fall into the deep black nothingness that does nothing to end my fear. I cannot move or see, I can barely even breathe except to keep up this siren that is bursting from my throat._

My eyes snap open. A small whimper escapes me as I take in the trees above me, the sky. Not home. Where am I?

Somebody is sitting next to me. I turn my head and see Rue, the female tribute from District 11. Everything comes flooding back, but I can't bear to think about it. She looks down when I move, and her face registers relief tinged with fear. It's an odd combination.

I'm tempted to get away because, after all, these are the Hunger Games and everyone you see is a threat. But my arm feels heavy and hot and I can't seem to move in the slightest.

Rue sees my anxiety. "It's OK, I'm not planning on killing you." What? She can't mean that, because of course she wants to go home. But in her eyes she finishes her sentence, "yet."

"Thanks for that." She picks up a forked stick – a slingshot. In my mind's eye, Marvel slumps to the ground again. "Was that you? Attacking the Careers?"

"Yeah," she says. "Well, not just me. There was also Peeta-" she breaks off and her head snaps around. She doesn't get up, but holds the slingshot at the ready, pointing into the trees.

"Hold your fire! It's just me." Peeta limps into the little clearing with a few apples in his hands. "Oh, good, you're awake," he notes with too much relief in his voice. "Hungry?"

I nod and try to sit up but it makes my head spin. "Steady, there," he cautions. His rough, warm hands are on my shoulders and he's crouched next to me. Is this what it's like to have an older brother? Always looking out for you, ready to catch you if you fall. I push away the thought. Katniss and my mother are all the family that I need. But still – if I had to have a brother, I would choose Peeta.

The thought flashes through my mind in an instant, but I try to catch it. I want to hold on to happiness… of course that doesn't happen.

Peeta helps me sit against a tree trunk before he hands me an apple. He gives one to Rue as well and then takes one for himself. We sit there in silence, crunching away, until I finally gather the courage to ask, "What happened last night?"

Peeta hesitates before he speaks. "Rue was up in a tree. She took out that boy from District 1 with a rock in the temple. Then I, um, attacked the boy from 4. Cato charged me. Rue would have taken care of him, but the boy from Five climbed her tree and gave her some… trouble."

I glance at Rue, who is sorting our supplies. It's really quite a bit, seeing as they've taken the Careers' packs. She doesn't look any worse for wear – wait, yes. She half-dragged herself to the packs, still not standing. One of her legs is held awkwardly out from her body, and I can see the longish branch that is being used as a splint. Did she fall out of the tree?

"So, I was trying to fight Cato off and I thought I'd killed him so I turned to you and Feli –" he breaks off because I'm almost biting my lip off and I can feel that I've gone very pale.

"She fell onto your knife," I whisper, "because I pushed her." Oh, no. Oh no, no, no. I can see it all now, the blood and the look of hatred in Feli's eyes. I killed her. I killed a living, breathing person. I have done what I dreaded doing. These Games have made me a monster.

"Yes," Peeta sighs, "but you'd be dead if you hadn't." He's quiet for a moment. "Then I realized that Cato was still alive. He lit a candle and pulled out a whip. He didn't even seem to care that I was running towards him. You got…tangled up… and I took care of Cato, and then Rue and I had to clear out so they could collect the bodies."

"So… who's left?" I ask apprehensively. Do I want to know the answer?

"Just Vulpe and us," Peeta says. Wow. This must be one of the fastest Games ever.

That night, however, when the faces of the dead flash across the sky, we are shocked and unable to find Appo's face among them. Peeta says, now that he thinks about it, he's not positive that he heard Appo's cannon, what with Cato running at him. So he's out there somewhere, bleeding and most likely starving as well.

I wish he'd hurry up and die. It's like a second wound, knowing that I'm unable to help him.

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**A/N: Huh? Huh? Pretty good, eh? Just kidding. But seriously, I'd like to know your thoughts and if you have any feedback - tips, favorite lines, or just random comments - please review! Yes, I will continue to be obnoxious about this!**


	12. Chapter 12: Pondered

Two days are spent recuperating. Vulpe doesn't make an appearance and neither does Appo. We are left to grow as strong as we can before the inevitable fight that we all know is coming.

I have time to think, and I almost wish it weren't true. Because, with my arm immobile and my heart half-dead, I know that I will never make it home. I never meant to survive this long. But now it seems that killing myself is out of the question. What could I do? _How_? Peeta would be livid if he knew my thoughts. He's hell-bent on keeping me alive… the crazy things that people will do for love. Then I remember that I'm contemplating suicide to make my sister happy. Isn't that crazy, too?

But on the third day we hear a cannon, and that night we see Appo's face among the stars. He's gone. Either he died of his wound or starvation or Vulpe killed him. Or some mutt, although I think we would have heard something if that was the case. Who knows?

We can't stay here any longer. Peeta says that unless something happens soon to keep the audience entertained, the Gamemakers will send us our own mutt to liven things up. We're all surprised they've let us remain here this long, anyways.

So we set out in the hopes of killing the fifteen-year-old girl from the fifth District. Rue limps along with the aid of a cane Peeta fashioned out of a fallen branch. Peeta himself is barely hurt, with only a sore ankle, shallow cuts on his arms and hands, and a bruised jaw from his fight with Thresh. My only wound is my arm, which is very red and swollen. It feels as though it's being burned.

We make a sorry-looking trio but what else can we do? Our alternative is to sit around and wait to die.

We are only twenty yards from the Cornucopia when it happens. There's a tiny shriek and Peeta and I whirl around to find Rue's body dropping to the ground, blood streaming from her slit throat, and Vulpe looking up at us with a mingled look of fear and excitement. But then her eyes bulge and the expression is wiped off her face as the knife thrown by Peeta buries itself in her ribcage. She collapses and the two cannons ring out almost simultaneously.

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**A/N: AAH! Oh, that was a relief to write! Hmm, I wonder what's coming next? A (virtual) penny for your thoughts in the form of a review?**


	13. Chapter 13: Discussed

I'm trembling with shock and horror as Peeta walks toward the bodies and takes back his knife. He avoids my eyes as he cleans it on the sparse grass. When he does face me, his eyes are very difficult to read. "It's down to us," he says.

He's right. We're the last two tributes alive. I didn't want it to happen like this! I was meant to disappear in the bloodbath and be nothing more than one name among countless others who had met the same fate. Not one of the final two, and certainly not with Peeta – the impossibly good person, and impossible to kill – as my only opponent.

"Yeah," I get out.

A long moment passes before he speaks. "Let's move so they can collect the bodies." I nod and we go to stand in front of the mouth of the Cornucopia. Peeta takes a deep breath. "I think we'd better come clean. There's no point in pretending we don't know what the other is doing."

So he's figured it out. Of course he has. "Okay. You first."

"You have to go home, Prim. You have the rest of your life ahead of you. Think of your family."

"I can't go home. Not like this. My family will be all right eventually." I almost choke on my next words. "I won't really be living the rest of my life. I killed Feli, Peeta. I _killed_ her. She's dead and I see her face every time I close my eyes!" A sob bursts from my throat.

"You're a strong girl. You'll find a way to make peace with it all somehow." He's a horrible liar. The false note in his voice is so obvious.

"Right. I'll end up drunk like Haymitch, or worse."

Peeta shakes his head. "No, Prim. You won't – you'll have your sister to help you through."

It's interesting that he doesn't mention my mother. He must know how far gone she is, has been, and will always be. I'm reminded of my second defense. "You love Katniss. Go home and it'll be like Caesar said: she won't be able to say no."

"Do you really think she'd take me if you were dead? You know as well as I do that she values you over me."

I remain silent, clearly indicating that he's right. But I'm not giving up yet, and he sees that.

"You're only twelve, Prim. You can't die here, today. That's not what's supposed to happen." He can tell I'm not buying it. "What do you gain by this? Why?"

My voice is broken and ragged. "I gain peace. I'll be free of the blood on my hands." _Free of the Capitol,_ I think, but I don't say it.

Peeta stares at me, and I think he may be accepting the truth, when he pulls out a knife. I see in his eyes what he's about to do and launch myself forward, using my good arm to wrench the dagger from his hand a second before it would have sliced him open. Before he has a chance to respond, I plunge the blade into my own chest.

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**A/N: Ha ha! You are all hanging on my every word!**

**please review and tell me if you thought that was going to happen!  
**


	14. Chapter 14: Freed

I hear the ripping of flesh and cloth before I feel the pain, but then I do. Peeta catches me as I go limp, and then lowers me gently to the ground. My jaw is locked and my face is screwed up in a grimace.

_No more, no more,_ I think desperately. I unclench my jaw enough to choke out, "You're going home." My shirt is soaked with blood and the knife blade is still lodged in my ribs.

"Yeah," Peeta whispers, and I see that he's crying. His tears drip on my face and mingle with my own. "Go to sleep now, Primrose."

_Sleep_, I think. I long for that easy rest without cares. Peeta caresses my cheek and for a moment he becomes my father, tucking me into bed. Then the arena and horror and blood come back, and I am so, so tired. All I want is to rest.

"No more bad dreams," he whispers, and places his hand on my forehead. I realize it's true. There will be no more nightmares, no more killing. No more death.

"Good night," I get out, and I can feel myself slipping away. The pain is easing. But before I lose my grip on life, I manage one last message. "Please… you and my sister… make this count."

My eyes flutter shut and I am alone in my broken body with the pain, but I'm almost smiling because Peeta is right. There will be no more bad dreams after this. Sleep is here and with a final gasp I let myself fall down, down, down, into a soft world with nothing but joy. The roses do not have thorns. The Capitol's claws cannot reach me here. I'm free of it all.

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**A/N: Agh, I'm going to cry now. Should I continue? Please review and tell me what you think! I'm not sure - my original idea involved switching POVs to Peeta, but do you think that would work? And also tell me what you thought of the story so far, please. You may now click on that 'review' button!**


	15. Chapter 15: Continuing Information!

**So here's the deal, folks...**

**I'm going to continue with this! That was my original plan, and I'm sticking with it.**

**I'll upload the first bit sometime this week, and it will be a new story, because I want it to be.**

**So, it will be from Peeta's point of view starting off from the end of "My Dreams Smell of Roses."**

**-Now that I think about it, maybe I should change that title. Should I or shouldn't I? Please respond-**

**Watch my story list! I promise, it will be up by December 5th at the latest. I've already started the chapter. Happy?**

**And I really have to say this: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. Specifically, MountainAir and Junbug24. There are others, but I'm lazy.**

**I really hope you stick with me for the next segment!**

**~RipredtheGnawer**


	16. Chapter 16: Reminded

**Just in case you guys didn't know, the story with the next part is called "Making it Count." It's on my profile.**

**It is a NEW story. As in, a new title and summary and everything.**

**Just letting you know...  
**

**~RipredtheGnawer**


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